


georgia peaches

by ace_corvid



Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, First Kiss, First Meetings, I'm Bad At Tagging, Internet Friends AU, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Purple Prose, Teen rating is for language, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 19:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_corvid/pseuds/ace_corvid
Summary: “Remy!” A laugh soars through the air and strikes him in his heart.A webcam could never capture how Emile's faded pink hair could look in filtered sunlight, the softness of his sweater against his flushed skin as he runs through the airport towards him. He's beautiful, stunning, and the man of his dreams. Remy can barely process it before Emile is in his arms.





	georgia peaches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilovemygaydad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemygaydad/gifts).

> YES I KNOW I HAVEN'T UPDATED ANYTHING  
NO I'M NOT SORRY  
Blame spoopy I refuse to take blame

Remy was more than a little nervous.

As the plane touched down on the runway, butterflies begin to flutter in the depths of Remy's stomach. He was here, in Brighton Airport. Emile was so, so close. Remy closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“Hey,” The girl with Gucci bags under her eyes sitting next to him spat. “Are you gonna move?”

Oh, yeah. Life is a thing that continues to mercilessly happen.

Air travel was a nightmare for all sorts of reasons, including but not limited to the imminent threat of death that Virgil had unintentionally conditioned him to be aware of at all times, but also because the unreasonable amount of time it takes to get off of a plane is tantamount to torture.

Perhaps the gravest injustice of all however, is that Remy was about to meet the love of his life wearing jeans stained with air plane food, thanks to the turbulence, and rumpled flannel he'd slept in. The beanie being used to cover up what was possibly his worst hair day to date was not really helping matters, and he was already getting weird stares for his shades. Goddammit.

It had really all started when they were 15 and completely alone surrounded by people. Both were coming to terms with being gay, both struggling with mental health and both lucky enough to be on the same forum at the same time. From there it had spiralled. They hadn't gone a day without talking in years, be it texting, calling, the rare lucky Skype session that both of them were too awkward to ask for but desperately wanted.

And they were meeting. Here. Today. In less than an_ hour_.

They had fallen in love years ago, realised it embarrassingly later, with nothing but a wi-fi connection. But now Remy was to know the feel of Emile's skin under his hands, Emile's lips against him, the pressure of his hugs and see a radiant smile unmarred by pixels. He shakes at the thought, but he's excited.

God he hopes that Emile doesn't think he's ugly in real life. That'd be a mood killer.

They shuffle off the plane all orderly-like. Welcome to Brighton, England.

Now Remy's a southern boy, raised in ass-fuck nowhere in Georgia, where it's sweltering hot all the time. Emile sheepishly admitted he burned like paper in the sun, but Remy's skin is naturally dark anyway, so sunburn never really bothered him. Not to mention, Emile has university; he;s training to be a therapist, and he just can't afford to miss lectures. Remy had the money for the place ticket, and a reason to come, and flexible job hours to boot, so here he is.

Finally in the same time zone, after all this time.

He makes his way through customs, tantalizingly slow, every second like hot knife torture knowing what's waiting for him on the other side.

“Reason for visit?” Asks a bored officer, flicking through his passport. Her accent is pretty; he wonders what Emile's will sound like when it's not through speakers. Emile babbles a lot, so Remy's pretty sure he knows, but to not hear the interference, to hear his voice clean and fresh, undeniably clear, will surely be heavenly.

“Visiting family.” He smiles. Emile is family. The love of his life. A piece of his heart. He can't believe he's _here_.

So he trundles through, anxious and fidgeting, when suddenly he hears someone yell.

“Remy!” A laugh soars through the air and strikes him in his heart, which is skipping beats left right and centre. A webcam could never capture how Emile's faded pink hair could look in filtered sunlight, the softness of his sweater against his flushed skin as he runs through the airport towards him. He's beautiful, stunning, and the man of his dreams. Remy can barely process it before Emile is in his arms.

He spins him around like they're in a bad romcom. Emile yells a little, but he sounds so _happy_. The girl from the plane before wolf whistles. They barely hear it over the ecstatic giggling fuelled by the adrenaline high.

God he's dreamed about this. Years of talking and laughing and loving and now here they are, together at last, and he couldn't be more elated. Every late night call, every kiss through a screen, all of it has been leading up to this. As friends, they had longed for this. As lovers, they had yearned. And now, all that was left was to feel as if it had all been worth it, to feel Emile against him, and have him to hold.

Well, that and one other thing.

“Hi.” Emile chuckles, as they come to a slow stop, pressing his forehead against Remy's. He feels like he can't breathe, or the moment will shatter into glass shards of a dreamscape. His smile feels too wide for his face, and he thinks he might be crying, but fuck it, Emile is in his arms and they're meeting, for real this time. Emile is like, definitely crying though. His voice sounds like velvet, music to Remy's ear that would give even Beethoven palpitations.

“Hi.” Remy whispers back, like the word is gospel. They stare at each other, as if daring the other to make the first move, when Remy decides he's already waited long enough for one life time, and tentatively presses his lips to Emile's, curling his arms around him further.

Georgia peaches, the taste of home, could never be as sweet. Here in Emile's arms is his new home. He's weak at the knees at the thought of it. What's real estate in Brighton like?

There's no fireworks, they're in an airport and that's so beyond illegal, but symphonies are roaring in Remy's heart and bloods rushing in his ears as Emile deepens the kiss, as if the moment could just maybe last forever. Remy wishes it could.

He wonders if Emile tastes coffee and air plane food. He wonders if he feels anything but pure magic. Remy is still shaking, but Emile is too.

They pull away, blushing but real to each other, for the first time.

“Have you got your suitcase?” Emile asks, breathless. Of course that's what he asks, when they're drowning under the weight of all they have to say. They're still immeasurably close, breathing heavy and Emile slips his hand into him, like it was made to fit there. Maybe it was.

“I've got everything I need.” Remy answers, adoring.

But he probably should pick up his suitcase, as much as Emile may like it if he had nothing to wear. He's finally here, and Emile's not through a screen, so yeah, he's gonna take advantage of that. But losing his stuff may just be enough to taint the dream. Probably not though. He's with Emile, after all.

Remy's going to love every second, but there's something he has to do first.

In all those years, there's something they'd been waiting for. The first touch, the first kiss, the first time would all have to wait until they were united, finally, but they'd saved something else too. Something they had only wanted when they were tangible, something they didn't want to hear through a phone line or a Skype call. They'd waited years, but they'd managed to save them for this.

“I love you.” Remy near enough sobs for the first time, pulling him back into an embrace, which makes Emile burst into tears again. He laughs through it, caressing Remy's face and kissing him again. Their second. Definitely not their last.

“I love you too.”

Remy may have to go home soon. Maybe they only have two weeks. But they also have the rest of their lives.

And Remy has every intention of making every second count.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading! Please kudos, and if you're feeling lovely, comment!
> 
> Find me on tumblr and twitter @Ace-Corvid!  
Hope you enjoyed!


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